I barely make it through the door before—
"Min-Jun."
Ara.
Fast.
Too fast.
She grabs my sleeve and starts pulling me down the hallway like she's on a mission.
"…hey—what—"
"Freshen up," she says quickly. "I need to talk to you."
Her tone is different.
Not playful.
Not teasing.
Serious.
Which immediately makes me suspicious.
"…what did you find," I mutter.
She pauses for half a second—
just enough to confirm she did find something—
but before she can answer—
"Min-Jun."
I stop.
Of course.
Of course it's her.
Mrs. Sun-Hea stands at the end of the hallway like she's been waiting specifically to ruin my life.
Behind her—
Mrs. Lee
And beside her—
Ji-Ah
Already looking like she's about to assign me labor.
Ara exhales quietly beside me.
"…unlucky," she mutters.
I agree.
Silently.
Painfully.
I step forward anyway.
"…yes?"
Mrs. Sun-Hea's eyes scan me once.
Judging.
Always judging.
"Ji-Ah is going out," she says.
I blink.
"…okay?"
Mrs. Lee steps in calmly.
"She needs someone to accompany her."
Pause.
My brain processes that.
Slowly.
Then—
"No."
It comes out instantly.
Automatic.
Ji-Ah gasps.
"Excuse me?"
I look at her.
"…I just got back."
"And?" she snaps.
"And I'm tired."
Mrs. Sun-Hea's gaze sharpens.
"That was not a request."
I inhale slowly.
Regretfully.
"…of course it wasn't."
Ji-Ah steps forward, already annoyed.
"Come on," she says, grabbing my wrist. "We don't have time."
"I didn't agree—"
Too late.
I'm dragged.
Again.
Why is this my life.
She pulls me into the living room and literally pushes me down onto the couch.
"Sit."
I sit.
Because at this point?
Resistance is decorative.
Ji-Ah crosses her arms.
Then starts talking like she's giving a presentation.
"Okay. Listen carefully."
I stare at her.
"…I'm already concerned."
"You're carrying my bag."
"Absolutely not."
"You are."
"I am not."
"You are."
"I refuse."
She leans closer.
"You are."
I lean back.
"…this feels illegal."
"It's not."
"It should be."
She ignores me.
Of course.
"You're also going to stay close," she continues. "Don't wander off. Don't embarrass me. Don't talk unless necessary."
I blink.
"…what am I, security?"
"You're support."
"I didn't sign up for this."
"You were assigned."
"That's worse."
She points at me.
"Also—if my friends ask, you're my cousin."
I freeze.
"…what."
"You're not ruining my image."
"YOU'RE USING ME AS AN ACCESSORY—"
"Exactly."
I stare at her.
Speechless.
For once.
From the hallway—
I catch a glimpse of Ara.
Watching.
Barely holding in laughter.
Traitor.
I mouth—
help me.
She mouths back—
good luck.
I hate this house.
Behind me—
a familiar presence shifts.
Niran.
Leaning lazily against the wall.
Watching this entire situation like it's entertainment.
"…this is pathetic," he murmurs.
I glare slightly.
"…don't start."
Ji-Ah notices the movement.
"Who are you talking to?"
"…myself."
"That's weird."
"That's my brand."
She rolls her eyes.
Then claps once.
"Okay, stand up. We're leaving."
I don't move.
"…no."
She grabs my sleeve again.
"Yes."
I let my head fall back dramatically.
"…this is my villain origin story."
Niran snorts.
"…you were already a villain."
"I am a victim."
"You're carrying a bag."
"I am suffering."
Ji-Ah pulls harder.
"Move."
I finally stand.
Reluctantly.
Painfully.
Dramatically.
"…if I disappear," I say flatly, "tell Ara I died doing something I didn't consent to."
"You're not dying," Ji-Ah says.
"Emotionally, I already have."
Niran leans closer as we walk.
"…I'm coming."
I glance at him.
"…of course you are."
"Someone has to supervise you."
"I don't need supervision."
"You absolutely do."
Ji-Ah looks between my expressions.
Suspicious.
"…you're really talking to yourself."
"Yes."
"That's embarrassing."
"That's consistent."
She sighs.
Then drags me toward the door.
Bag already being handed to me.
Heavy.
Of course it's heavy.
"…why is this so big," I mutter.
"Essentials."
"This is not essentials, this is a survival kit."
"Stop complaining."
"I will not."
Niran walks beside me.
Smirking.
Enjoying this far too much.
"…you look ridiculous," he says.
I glare.
"…you're enjoying this."
"Very much."
"You're evil."
"Correct."
Ji-Ah opens the door.
"Come on."
I take one last look back.
Ara is still there.
Watching.
Thinking.
Holding something behind her back.
Something important.
I narrow my eyes slightly.
She gives a small look.
Later.
I nod once.
Later.
Then—
I step out.
Bag in hand.
Dignity gone.
Ghost beside me.
And somehow—
I just know this day is about to get worse.
The restaurant is bright.
Too bright.
Too expensive.
Too… not for me.
I stand at the entrance beside Ji-Ah, holding her bag like my life choices led me here on purpose.
They didn't.
"…why do I look like this," I ask flatly.
She doesn't even look at me.
"Because I dressed you."
I look down at myself again.
Cloudy light-brown oversized hoodie—so big it swallows my hands.
White loose pants that stop right at my ankles.
And—
I touch my head slowly.
"…a fluffy bucket hat."
"Yes."
"…I look like a five-year-old going to a picnic."
"You look harmless."
"I look unemployed."
She finally glances at me.
"Exactly."
I stare.
"…that is not a compliment."
"It's strategic."
I narrow my eyes.
"…for what."
"So you don't embarrass me."
I inhale.
Slow.
Controlled.
"…I hate you."
"Not important."
Behind me—
Niran lets out a quiet laugh.
"…you actually do look ridiculous."
I turn slightly.
"…you're not helping."
"I'm enjoying this."
Of course he is.
I sigh.
Then—
I look at Ji-Ah properly.
And pause.
Because—
she looks… different.
Not just dressed up.
Composed.
Elegant.
Her outfit is sharp but soft at the same time—a fitted black dress with subtle gold details, the kind that doesn't scream for attention but gets it anyway. Her hair falls perfectly, styled just enough to look effortless. Minimal jewelry, but expensive-looking.
Confident.
Untouchable.
I blink once.
Then—
"…you look nice."
She pauses.
Just for a second.
Then looks at me.
Suspicious.
"…what."
I shrug.
"Just saying."
A beat.
Then—
"Thank you."
It's quieter.
Less sharp.
I nod.
Then—
she turns to walk in.
I follow.
Still holding the bag.
Still dressed like a child.
Still questioning everything.
—
"High school reunion," she says as we walk.
I blink.
"…you're in college."
"Law."
"Of course you are."
"And they insisted we meet."
"Of course they did."
"Don't talk too much."
"I never do."
"That's a lie."
"It's selective silence."
"That's worse."
We reach the table.
Seven people.
Three boys.
Four girls.
All already seated.
Food everywhere.
Plates layered—grilled meat, pasta, seafood, desserts waiting at the side, drinks sparkling under the light. The kind of table where everything looks too good to touch.
They all look up at the same time.
At Ji-Ah.
Then—
their eyes shift.
To me.
To the bag.
To my outfit.
Silence.
One of the boys blinks.
"…who is that."
Ji-Ah answers instantly.
"That's my cousin."
Pause.
Then she adds—
"Little brother."
I turn slowly.
"…little—"
She steps on my foot.
Hard.
I inhale sharply.
"…yes," I say through pain. "Little."
They nod.
Accepting it immediately.
Of course they do.
I sit.
Bag placed beside me.
Dignity gone.
Niran appears behind one of the chairs, already leaning over the table.
"…this looks good," he mutters.
He reaches toward a plate—
touches nothing—
then leans closer to someone's hair.
"…why does she smell like strawberries."
I stare ahead.
"…please don't start."
One of the girls glances at me.
"Did you say something?"
"…no."
"Okay…"
They go back to talking.
Like nothing is wrong.
Like nothing is wrong.
They laugh.
Talk over each other.
"Do you remember that trip—"
"Oh my god YES—"
"You literally fell into the lake—"
"YOU pushed me!"
"I did not—!"
"YOU DID—!"
Laughter.
Easy.
Natural.
Like they've done this a hundred times.
Ji-Ah relaxes slightly beside me.
Talking like she belongs here.
Because she does.
"…I missed this," one of the girls says.
"Same," another replies. "College is not the same."
"Especially law," someone adds.
Ji-Ah rolls her eyes.
"Don't remind me."
"You chose that life."
"I regret it daily."
More laughter.
Niran walks behind them.
Casual.
Observing.
He pauses behind one guy.
"…this one looks annoying."
I mutter under my breath.
"…don't touch anyone."
"I'm not touching."
He leans closer anyway.
"Just evaluating."
I ignore him.
Focus.
Blend in.
A girl suddenly turns to me.
Bright smile.
"Hey—what's your name?"
I blink.
"…Min-Jun."
"That's cute," she says.
I nod slowly.
"…thank you?"
She laughs.
"I'm Sora."
Another leans in.
"Yuri."
"Minseo."
They go around—
names stacking one after another.
I nod at each.
Trying to remember.
Failing.
Then—
one of the girls looks at Ji-Ah.
Smirks slightly.
"Wow… beauty runs in your family?"
Ji-Ah raises a brow.
The girl points at me.
"Your brother is so cute."
I freeze.
Internally.
"…brother?" I repeat.
Ji-Ah smiles.
"Of course."
I look at her.
Slowly.
"…selfish."
She ignores me.
Of course she does.
They turn back to me.
"Which school are you in?"
"Hanuel High."
Immediate reaction.
"Ahh—"
"That school—"
"Very popular—"
"For rich kids—"
"And some scholarship students too—"
"Yeah, I've heard about it—"
I nod.
"…it's a school."
They laugh.
"Things always happen there," one of the boys says. "Drama, rumors—everything."
Another nods.
"Even weird stuff."
I pause slightly.
Niran's presence shifts.
Subtle.
"…weird?" I ask.
"Yeah," he shrugs. "You know—stories, accidents, things like that."
The air dips.
Just a little.
Then—
Ji-Ah speaks.
Casual.
Too casual.
"Speaking of that…"
They look at her.
"Have you heard about that boy?"
A pause.
"Which one?"
She continues—
"Niran Wongchai."
Silence.
Immediate.
Heavy.
"…the one who fell?" someone says.
"Yeah," another adds. "It was all over the news."
"It spread so fast—"
"People were talking about it everywhere—"
"Some said it wasn't an accident—"
Niran goes still.
Behind them.
Watching.
Listening.
I keep my expression neutral.
Careful.
Then—
someone looks at me.
"Wait… you go to that school, right?"
I nod.
"Yeah."
"Do you know him?"
The question lands.
Sharp.
Simple.
Dangerous.
I pause just long enough.
Then—
"…yeah."
Silence leans in.
"But we weren't that close."
It's the safest answer.
Ji-Ah nods immediately.
"Alright, enough of that," she says lightly. "We haven't seen each other in years."
The tension breaks.
Slowly.
They laugh again.
Talk shifts.
Food gets passed around.
Conversations overlap again.
Normal returns.
But not fully.
Because under the table—
under the laughter—
under everything—
something changed.
Niran moves again.
Closer this time.
Near me.
Quiet.
Watching them.
Watching me.
And I don't look at him.
But I can feel it.
This wasn't just a dinner.
This was something else.
And somehow—
we just stepped deeper into it.